


Sleep's Warm Embrace

by frek



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Caretaker Stiles, Cuddling & Snuggling, First Kiss, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Sharing a Bed, Sharing a Room
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-03
Updated: 2014-04-03
Packaged: 2018-01-17 23:43:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1407004
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frek/pseuds/frek
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles rescues Derek from captivity and cares for him after.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sleep's Warm Embrace

**Author's Note:**

> Huge thank yous to both [aylakazam](http://aylakazam.tumblr.com) and [jacksonwhittwhore](http://jacksonwhittwhore.tumblr.com) for their wonderful beta skills. <333

Derek sighed, watching Stiles as his long fingers worked open the handcuffs holding him to the chainlink. His face was tight with concentration, teeth pressing into his bottom lip, eyes narrowed as he focused on turning the key, long eyelashes casting shadows on his cheeks from the stark lighting. 

He appreciated the view. But more than anything right then, Derek was tired. If he were completely honest, he was exhausted. As soon as his hands were free, he was rubbing at his wrists, trying to restore the feeling to his hands. He could hear the sounds of Stiles freeing Peter next to him, the terse conversation between them. After a moment, though, he blocked it out. He had spent enough time these last few days beside Peter. He was ready to move on. Get some rest.

Derek stepped over to where he knew his captors had tossed his things, pulling his shirt from the pile and slipping it on. After a couple more minutes of digging, he found his shoes and socks. He slid them on and looked up from where he was standing to see Stiles just watching him. His face was open and unguarded, like he hadn't expected Derek to catch him in the act, and a moment later he was looking away, cheeks pink. Derek watched Stiles as he busied himself with his phone, trying to understand just what that look had meant.

Once he and Peter were dressed, their phones and wallets accounted for, Derek crossed the room to where Stiles had stood waiting, looking anxious. He reached out and rested a hand on Stiles' arm and thanked him, eyes meeting Stiles' fully as he spoke. "We have to get out of here," he said, looking around at his captors laying unconscious on the floor.

Stiles nodded without question and led the two wolves out of the building and to the Jeep. Derek made Peter climb into the back before he took shotgun, not even letting him argue. They spent a large part of the ride in silence before Stiles broke it. "You know, I had expected to find you on your own. I was disappointed to find you with _him_ ," he said, shooting a glare back at Peter in his rearview mirror.

Before Derek could explain, Stiles started speaking again, "You know I would have thought you'd learn by now not to involve yourself with Uncle Creepypasta. The dude's bad news, Derek."

"Hey, I'm right here, you know," came Peter's irritated voice from the back seat. Derek watched Stiles roll his eyes, but otherwise refuse to acknowledge Peter.

Derek bit back a laugh before replying, "It was a necessary evil," which earned him an angry huff and a kick to the back of his seat. 

A short time later, Peter was dropped off at the place he was staying and Stiles was taking Derek home. "You should do something with the loft," Stiles spoke as he drove toward the building. "Or maybe move to an actual apartment with a fully functional kitchen and like rooms and stuff."

"The loft is fine as it is," Derek said, brushing off Stiles' suggestions, his eyes focused on the scenery passing them by. "I don't need anything more than that." The truth was that Derek hadn't planned on staying in Beacon Hills long enough to need anything more. He had been mistaken, though, and now was lost as to what he should do.

"Says the man who spent several months living in the burnt out shell of his former home," Stiles pointed out, not unkindly. 

Derek shrugged. "It was convenient."

"Are you sure you don't want to stay at my place tonight? With actual heat and food and a hot shower?"

Derek glanced over at Stiles, surprise likely written across his face. Stiles offering his home to Derek was the last thing he had expected. Though, maybe he should have. He worried the inside of his lip with his teeth as he thought through the possible answers and mentally cursed himself when he couldn't think of one good reason to say no.

"Is that a yes?" Stiles asked, sounding way too happy about it.

"Sure, Stiles," Derek sighed, not up to arguing, "take me to your place."

The rest of the ride to the house was quiet. Stiles didn't press Derek for details about his captivity and Derek didn't offer any. Instead he closed his eyes with his head leaning against the cool glass as they crossed Beacon Hills, the silence between them comfortable like nothing else in Derek's life.

When they pulled into Stiles' driveway, Derek straightened up and looked at the dark house, thankful that the sheriff wasn't there to question him that night. He unbuckled his seatbelt and slid out of the Jeep, following Stiles across the front walk and into the house. The silence continued to stretch out between them as they made their way inside and upstairs to Stiles' room. As always, Stiles spoke first.

"My dad is working tonight, so you don't have to worry about him," he said, dropping his things on his dresser before digging in the drawers to pull out a clean pair of sweats and a t-shirt, handing both over to Derek. "You all right to clean yourself up?" He asked, waiting only long enough for a quick nod from Derek before continuing, "Bathroom's across the hall, leave your dirty clothes in there, I'll wash them for you. Meet me downstairs when you're done and I'll have some food ready, okay?"

Derek nodded again, a look of surprise crossing his face. He looked around the room, at all of the things filling the space and how unlike his own place this was. There were clothes laying around, books and papers piled up on various surfaces, pictures of Stiles with his friends and his family over the years. He felt out of place despite Stiles having invited him there. He glanced over at Stiles, voicing the question that had played through his head since Stiles had shown up to free him, "Why did you do this?"

"Someone has to," Stiles shrugged, hand nervously rubbing over the back of his neck. He broke Derek's gaze and shifted in place. "Go on and wash up, I'll see you downstairs," he said before turning away from Derek and escaping the conversation. Derek could hear the quick _thud-thud_ of his heartbeat as he retreated.

Derek looked at the clothes in his hands, a pair of maroon Beacon Hills sweats and a worn t-shirt with the lacrosse team logo on it. Stiles' scent was heavy on the clothes and Derek wondered if Stiles realized what it would mean to his wolf to smell like him. He found that he didn't mind the scent at all, the feeling of being Stiles' that accompanied it.

It didn't take long for Derek to wash up, his mind preoccupied with thoughts about the last few days; about Stiles showing up to save him. Before he knew it, he was clean and dressed, climbing down the stairs barefoot in Stiles' clothes, hair still damp from his shower. He stopped when he stepped into the kitchen, eyes fixed on Stiles working at the stove, a tea towel slung over his shoulder as he stirred a pot. Derek glanced around him a moment, the rooms beyond the kitchen dark and empty.

"You can sit at the counter," Stiles said, as he leaned forward and turned off the burner, surprising Derek. He hadn't thought Stiles had heard him come down the stairs. "I hope you like macaroni and cheese," he continued, carrying a couple plates to the counter and divvying up helpings for both of them. "Nothing special, just Kraft, but it's what we had," he added, before turning to replace the pot on the stove.

Derek silently took the seat offered and watched Stiles finish getting their meal together. He watched as Stiles reached up into the microwave and brought out a plate with some breaded chicken, splitting the food between their plates before turning to the fridge to pull out a couple bottles of water and placing one before each of them. A moment later one plate was in front of Derek and Stiles was climbing onto the stool beside him, the other plate before him.

The whole situation was strange to Derek, surreal almost. He hadn't been taken care of properly since he and Laura were on their own after the fire. And even then it had only been a short while before he had gotten it in his head that he was old enough that he didn't need her to care for him anymore. He had missed the comfort of someone else looking after him, the knowledge that someone thought about him enough to take care of him like Stiles was just then. 

"Are you going to eat or just stare off into space all night?" Stiles' voice cut into Derek' thoughts again. 

Derek glanced over at Stiles, his fork hovering in his hand as he looked back expectantly. He nodded, clearing his throat. "Yeah, sorry," he mumbled, turning back to his plate, the tips of his ears warm. 

And he did, quickly devouring the food on his plate, not really even remembering the flavor of it when it was gone. Only that for the first time in days, his stomach didn't feel achingly empty. He pushed his plate back and glanced over at Stiles, seeing him finishing up what he had as well. 

When Stiles finished, he stood up and took their plates and quickly rinsed them before putting them into the dishwasher. As he cleaned up, Derek sat and watched, uncertain on what to do. 

"Was that enough?" Stiles asked as he closed up the dishwasher.

Derek blinked up at Stiles, having not heard what he had said. Stiles repeated himself and Derek nodded. "It was," he agreed, standing up as he spoke, stretching out his legs. "Thank you," he added after a moment, almost too quiet to hear. 

Derek turned, looking around the space surrounding him again, at the living room, the signs of a place well lived in and well loved. He hadn't lived in a place like this since the old house. Even the apartment he and Laura had shared in New York had always felt more temporary than anything; like they had always known they were going to come back to Beacon Hills. Derek knew Laura hadn't planned on the events that had unfolded, though.

Derek was torn out of his reverie by a tentative hand on his forearm, his eyes unfocused as he stared at the couch in the center of the room. He blinked and turned to Stiles, a look of concern coloring his features. 

"You okay?"

Derek nodded, reaching up to brush the fingers of his other hand overtop Stiles', keeping the touch on his arm if only for a moment longer. "Just... thinking," he said softly. "I... probably need some rest, honestly. It's hard to sleep when you're cuffed to a fence and on your feet for days."

Stiles nodded knowingly, his hand still resting on Derek's arm, the warmth of his fingers seeping into his skin. He gave Derek's arm a slight squeeze before letting go, "You can take my bed tonight. I can sleep on the couch."

Derek frowned at the hand slipping free, at the idea of being alone. He missed Laura then, the comfort of having family that understood when something more was needed without having to ask for it. Derek had never learned how to ask; didn't know how to tell Stiles what he needed.

Stiles seemed to know, though. "I could put out a sleeping bag, stay in the room with you instead," he said, shrugging, turning to lead Derek up to his room. "Keep you company if you like."

Derek nodded, following Stiles up to the room, only speaking when he realized Stiles wouldn't have seen the small movement, "Thanks," he murmured, just loud enough for Stiles to catch it. He caught the nod of Stiles' head and the corner of Derek's mouth curled up into a small smile. Maybe Stiles was more family than he had given him credit.

Stiles led Derek back into his room before turning to the closet to dig out a sleeping bag. "Make yourself at home," he said as he pulled out a large sleeping bag and tossed it out behind him toward the bed. He closed the closet doors and started rolling out the sleeping bag. "Derek?" He asked, after Derek hadn't moved from the doorway.

Derek blinked over at Stiles, looking up at him eyes wide. "I..." he started, but stopped and let out a soft breath, pushing the bedroom door closed and crossing over toward the bed. He shoved down the covers and slid in, practically sinking into the soft mattress. Derek couldn't remember the last time he had slept in a bed this soft. It felt more like a luxury than it should.

"Oh," Stiles said, straightening up and catching sight of Derek settling into the bed. "I need my pillow... Can't really sleep without it," he said sheepishly, hand brushing through the hair at his nape.

Derek sat up and glanced at the pillows at the top of the bed, immediately grabbing the one that smelled more strongly of Stiles and handing it to him. His eyes fluttered close for just a moment at the rush of scent as he handled the pillow, at how much he actually _liked_ it. But before it could be made into a thing, Derek looked over at Stiles as he took the pillow.

"How did you...?" He asked, but shook his head. "Werewolves," followed shortly and Derek smirked in response.

Derek settled back into the bed once more, tugging one of the other pillows beneath his head and pulling the blankets up and over him. He rolled onto his side, back to the room as he heard Stiles situate his bed on the floor, turning the lights out, and settle down to sleep.

Stiles' room was quiet, neither of them speaking as they both lay awake. Their breathing was the only sound in the darkness. Derek rolled over onto his other side, looking down at Stiles on the floor beside him, seeing him clearly in the dark. His eyes were open and he was staring at the ceiling, hands resting on his stomach. Derek felt like he should say something. He wasn't ready to talk about what had happened. Though it wasn't a new experience, he couldn't think of what else to say. Talking wasn't something he was very good at.

"I can feel your eyes on me," Stiles said, taking the burden of starting the conversation off Derek. "Once a creeper always a creeper, I guess."

Derek huffed out a soft laugh and tugged the pillow he was sleeping on closer. "Can't sleep," he offered, as if it weren't already obvious. "You'd think I'd fall asleep as soon as I lay down, but..."

"It's hard to get your mind to shut off," Stiles cut in, "I know... happens to me a lot."

"What do you usually do?" Derek asked, giving in to the conversation, meeting Stiles' gaze in the dark. He wanted nothing more than to fall asleep, the exhaustion seeping into his bones, yet somehow his mind wouldn't let him rest.

"I don't usually try to fall asleep when it gets like that," Stiles replied. "The more I try, the harder it is for me to sleep. I've spent entire nights learning that the hard way. Instead, I'll usually read or get on the internet. Sometimes just spend my time trying to piece together whatever my mind wants to focus on."

"I just keep reliving the last few days," Derek sighed, hating himself for not being able to move on from it so easily. It wasn't like it was the first time it had happened. He had to laugh at that. Kidnapping, captivity, and torture weren't things people were supposed to be able to move on from like it was nothing, but somehow it had become common enough in Derek's life that he had felt as if he should be able. When had things become this bad?

"What's so funny?" Stiles asked, watching Derek as best he could in the darkness of the room.

Derek shook his head. "My life," he said, the words filled with a venom he didn't usually show.

"Hey," Stiles said, sitting up and shifting closer to the bed so that he could see better into Derek's face. He reached out a hand and rested it again on Derek's arm, his long fingers warm and reassuring in a way that nobody else's touch was. "You can tell me... if you want."

Derek didn't answer, conflicted. He didn't want to talk about it, but at the same time, it couldn't be worse than constantly reliving the events in his mind. Maybe talking would put his mind to rest.

"I mean," Stiles started again when he was met with quiet for longer than he was comfortable, "you don't have to talk if you don't want to. I won't judge or anything. Hell, I won't even respond if you don't want me to," the words coming out too quick, like he was afraid of the response or lack thereof.

Derek let out a low breath and met Stiles' gaze, a hand shifting to rest over Stiles' again, thumb brushing idly over the back of his hand. "I don't know where to start," he said after a long moment, the events a vivid - if jumbled - memory.

"They were hunters, weren't they?" Stiles asked, prodding Derek toward a start. "They obviously weren't interested in killing you, otherwise I'd have never found you like I did..."

"No," Derek agreed, "they weren't there to kill us. At least not right away. They wanted information more than anything."

"What were they looking for?" The curiosity was clear in Stiles' voice.

"Information on other werewolf packs. On other wolves in general. They tried to pry into our pack," Derek said, scolding himself for bringing it up when he heard the sharp intake of breath from Stiles, obviously worried about Scott. Even if, Derek knew, Scott could hold his own against any hunter. "Neither of us said anything. They don't know about the others, just the two of us."

The relief in Stiles was clear to Derek even without his additional senses. He turned his hand a little and twined his fingers with Stiles', the small gesture spoke volumes.

"Why didn't anyone else come for me?" He asked after a moment, wondering if he'd get a straight answer out of Stiles now.

"They didn't know," Stiles said, voice quiet, as if he was afraid to let out the truth, that he had gone on his own to rescue Derek without telling a single soul.

Derek wanted to yell at Stiles and scold him for what he had done, for how stupid it really was. But he was too thankful for the rescue, for someone remembering him and caring about him enough to find him. Instead, all he managed out was, "You're such an idiot," in an overly fond tone.

Which Stiles caught, if the sudden uptick in his heart rate was any indication. Derek could hear Stiles shift even closer to the bed, his hand gripping Derek's a little tighter. The rustle of clothes filling his ears as Stiles rested his head on the bed, eyes meeting Derek's, warm breath ghosting across their joined hands.

"An idiot who saved your life," Stiles finally said, a wry grin forming on his lips. 

"Don't think I'll forget that you went out without telling anyone," Derek replied, shaking his head. "I've got that on you now and I won't be afraid to use it against you."

"Ungrateful much?" Stiles rolled his eyes.

"Oh, I'm grateful," Derek said, smiling despite himself. "But I also don't want to see you hurt or dead."

"Aw, I'm touched," Stiles teased, placing his other hand over his heart. "I didn't know you cared."

"There's a lot that you don't know," Derek murmured, being purposefully cryptic. 

"Oh?" Stiles asked, eyes widening. The look on his face spoke volumes and Derek regretted saying anything, because he knew without question that Stiles wasn't going to let that comment go without getting something out of it. "Like what?" Stiles continued. "Secret children? Weird birthmarks? You're actually forty?"

The look Derek leveled at Stiles could curdle milk, but Stiles only laughed. "I know, I know," Stiles said, shaking his head, climbing to his knees so that he sat more level with Derek, "You're only 36."

Derek reached out and pressed his palm to Stiles' forehead and pushed him over, laughing as he watched him sprawl out on the floor, limbs flailing in the way that only Stiles' did. The clench in his chest at the sight didn't go ignored. Derek knew the way he felt about Stiles and the night they've spent together only helped to cement those feelings.

"Rude," Stiles complained as he climbed back to his knees, reaching out to try and pull Derek out of the bed. It had almost no effect on him, though, and Stiles huffed out his frustration as he reversed and pushed instead. Derek's hands gripped Stiles' biceps, holding him away, but Stiles still had managed to get Derek on his back, straddling his legs as his hands held his shoulders down. His triumphant crow died on his lips, though, when it was clear that he had realized what he had done, eyes going wide.

Derek let his hands slid down along Stiles' arms until he was gripping each of his wrists where Stiles' palms still rested on his shoulders, his eyes meeting Stiles' as the silence began to stretch between them. Derek wanted to fill the silence, though he couldn't think of anything to say and it seemed as if Stiles had been struck equally speechless. But as both of them stared at each other, novels worth of words building up between them, Derek finally snorted, shaking his head and rolling his eyes.

"Christ, Stiles, if you wanted to share the bed, you should've just said so," he sighed, easily rolling onto his side and depositing Stiles on the bed beside him, the total lack of effort to move Stiles clear to both of them.

Stiles didn't reply, still apparently struck silent from their wrestling. Derek wondered if that would work any time Stiles didn't know when to shut up. He imagined Stiles rambling anxiously only to be struck silent by an arm around his waist, a press of lips to his ear, a whispered innuendo. He wondered if they'd get there one day, where those touches and whispers would be allowed; wondered if maybe they were already allowed if he would just take that step.

Derek sighed and looked up into Stiles' face, their gazes meeting. "If you want to go back to the floor, you're welcome to," he finally said. "But, if you want to stay up here, you're welcome to that too," the words punctuated by the slow slide of Derek's fingers in between Stiles' as he held onto his hand.

Derek watched Stiles' gaze travel down to their twined fingers and back up his body until he was looking at him through his long lashes. He could hear the pounding of Stiles' heart and it was surprising just how close in rhythm it was to Derek's. "What if I wanted more?" Stiles asked, his voice careful, uncertain.

And there it was, the question that made Derek's stomach flutter and clench with a sudden onset of nerves. He had seen it coming, but couldn't stop it, wasn't certain he wanted to. Even with having someone wanting more than he had willingly given in a long time. Because it was different with Stiles. He trusted Stiles in ways that he hadn't trusted anyone in a long time. "I suppose it'd depend on what that more was," came Derek's soft reply.

Stiles nodded, slipping his hand from Derek's and reaching up to cup his cheek, eyes never leaving Derek's as though he wanted to make sure that Derek wasn't going to push him away. Derek didn't and Stiles leaned in closer, eyes lowered the closer he got until his lashes were just a dark shadow on his cheeks and Derek's heart was racing in his chest. And then their lips were meeting and Derek's breath was catching and Stiles' voice was a constant hum in his throat and it was _everything_ that Derek hadn't known he needed, to be surrounded by Stiles in scent and sound and touch and god, even taste. 

The kiss didn't last long, being just a brush of lips and the barest hint of tongue, but it left Derek breathless. His heart was pounding so loudly that it echoed in his ears, his eyes wide as he looked back at Stiles and his fingers trembled where they had found Stiles' hip. "Was that welcome?" Stiles finally asked, his voice small in the dark room, as if he were afraid of an answer he wouldn't like.

"More than," Derek murmured quietly, a small smile playing on his lips when he saw the way Stiles' face lit up in response. The silence that built between them right then wasn't as tense and awkward as the previous, there was something comforting in it, something warm and happy that had curled up in Derek's chest that hadn't been there earlier that day and he had Stiles to thank for it. For all of it.

"I think I know what I need to fall asleep," Derek said before he leaned in close and pressed another kiss to Stiles' lips. He relaxed back into the bed, shifting over to give Stiles more room. "Go get your pillow, you're not sleeping on the floor," he whispered, releasing his hand from Stiles' hip. 

Derek watched in the dim light as Stiles leaned down off the bed, arm reaching out for his pillow before dragging it back up to him and stuffing it under his head. Derek smiled softly before rolling back on his side, back facing Stiles once more. A soft sigh escaped his lips as Stiles took the hint and slid an arm around his waist. And as the pair of them settled together on the bed, their bodies molding to each other, Derek felt sleep finally creep up on him and welcome him in its warm embrace.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm [frek](http://frek.tumblr.com) on tumblr. Come talk Teen Wolf and Sterek with me. <3


End file.
